A Study of the Messy Perfection that is D7
by RaeValens
Summary: A series of prompt-based ficlets- other genres (and characters) will likely be included as well. There isnt necessarily a continuing storyline, though some ficlets may end up being connected in some way. Even so, each can be read on its own as a standalone piece. Rated T for occasional mild language and sensitive subjects.
1. Series1

**Author's Note:** I've done similarly formatted fics in another fandom. Each section is a stand-alone piece, not necessarily tied to any of the others (though I won't explicitly say they _aren't _somehow connected; take them as you will). Each section is based on its respective prompt below.

This is also my submission for the 25 Days of Voyager on Tumblr! (As such I've elected to end it on a lighter note- please be aware that "Reunion" is a bit depressing, TW for family member death) I'll have something more Christmassy soon- once I'm done with my research paper. I hope you enjoy, and unless people think this is terrible I will probably add more prompt-based ficlets later. Happy holidays, everyone!

**Prompts:**

1\. During the story, a character discovers someone has been pretending to be them.

2\. During the story, a character finds a long-lost relative.

3\. The story must involve some musical pipes in it.

4\. The story takes place a year into the future.

**Mark One**

"So you're telling me that you taught yourself advanced holographic engineering, somehow obtained my authorization codes from an unnamed Ferengi, and you've been sneaking back into your old mining camp which you previously escaped in order to perform maintenance on your fellow Mark Ones?"

A voice identical to his own answered. "That's correct."

"Well. I must say, I'm not sure whether to be afraid or proud."

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw Seven flash a glare at him. She spoke before he could. "You ought to report this to Starfleet immediately. This negates the charges brought against you."

"It certainly does, but I have no intention of turning in a fellow hologram simply because he wanted to help his own." He could see Seven gearing up for an argument and continued before she could stop him. "Especially when the very same people who initiated the mining operation have abandoned them to disrepair. Just think of it, Seven. Thousands of photonic lifeforms being allowed to simply fade from existence. It would be the same as ignoring an epidemic among organic beings!"

"Be that as it may, you're a wanted man. Even Admiral Janeway would have trouble defending you without the witness of this man!"

The Doctor smiled in spite of himself. My, how far we've come. Seven's automatic response is to call him a man, not a hologram. "We'll just have to find a way to get Starfleet to understand. They finally decided to consider me a person. Why not the miners?" A look passed across Seven's face. Was it pain? Anger? At what? The Doctor frowned, trying to understand. Ah. Yes, that must be it. "This isn't the same thing as Iden's holographic rebellion, Seven."

"May I say something?"

The Doctor and Seven both looked to the miner who shared the Doctor's face and voice. "I've already decided to turn myself in," he said.

"But if you do that there's no telling what will happen to you!"

The miner crossed his arms. "It doesn't matter. I've already passed on everything I know to two others who's identities have been wiped from my memory. They have everything they need to continue repairs and their work in the mines. At least until they can be liberated. With everything we've heard about your time on Voyager, not to mention _Photons Be Free_, I was hoping you would be a part of it."

Seven's eyes looked like they could fire electricity straight through his matrix. "It would appear they've inherited your own stubbornness, Doctor."

He raised his hands placatingly. "Point taken." He turned to the other hologram. "Please. If you want to turn yourself in, at least come to Starfleet. I'll testify on your behalf. But take it from me, going on a one-man mission of liberation isn't the best way to get your message across. A rebellion of photonic miners likely won't end very well, either. Believe me, I know."

The other hologram crossed his arms. He paused, looking away. The Doctor had a fleeting moment of perfect clarity: So this is what it was like for Seven whenever he felt particularly stubborn. He didn't like being on the receiving end of it.

"Alright," the miner finally said. "We'll go to Starfleet."

**Reunion**

As soon as we touched down on the surface of the planet, I noticed her hand shaking above the navigational panel. It was quite unnerving, to say the least. I hadn't seen Seven so visibly disturbed since… well, since our days aboard Voyager. But I understood perfectly- er, at least as perfectly as a hologram could understand. Which is to say, I didn't have any firsthand knowledge or understanding, how could I? But at the very least, my psychological subroutines and the much-more-developed-since-my-first-days-of-activation empathy subroutines made it possible for me to understand at least something of what Seven must be going through. I remember first hearing about Dr. Lewis Zimmerman's critical condition once Voyager was able to communicate regularly with the Alpha Quadrant. I didn't even know the man, but he was the closest thing I had to any sort of family. Of course I needed to go help him.

But at least I knew that there was still someone for me to help.

"Seven?" There was no guarantee that Seven's mother would still be alive. If she were, it would be a tricky situation dealing with a still-fully-assimilated Borg.

"I am fine." Her voice was just a little too clipped. "We should go."

I followed her out of the small craft and into the dense foliage. A distant subroutine wondered how similar this planet was to Ferenginar.

We walked in silence for several minutes. I found myself wondering more and more what Seven must be thinking. Was she remembering her own brief period of separation from the Collective, stranded on an unknown planet? Or was she perhaps thinking about her own assimilation? Or the Raven where it all began?

I knew I couldn't force Seven to talk about these things- I learned a long time ago how bad an idea that was- but moments like these were especially frustrating to me. After all, we were in a relationship now. When else would be an appropriate time for Seven to open up to me?

But of course, my own frustrations were always tempered with the knowledge that giving Seven the space she needed was the best way to help her process things; eventually, she would talk to me.

"I am," her voice was very low, as if she were speaking around a lump in her throat, "feeling apprehensive."

I smiled and touched her arm briefly. "That's perfectly understandable." I silently berated myself for getting frustrated.

"When I was in Unimatrix Zero One, the Borg Queen showed my father to me."

I gasped and nearly tripped on a vine. "She _what?"_

"I did not think such an experience would stay with me for so long, but it has."

I placed a hand on her shoulder and halted. "Seven, why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"At the time, I did not want to think about the experience. Since then, there has never been an appropriate occasion to bring it up."

I must have sputtered. I had long since come to terms with the fact that I would never truly and fully understand Seven, but something like _this_…

"Doctor, we must keep moving."

"Yes. Yes, of course."

We came to a small clearing. On the other side, face down with one of its legs encased in sticky mud, was a Borg drone. Seven ran before I could say a word.

When I caught up, she had already turned it over. Somehow, without Seven needing to say a word, I knew that this was indeed the Borg we were looking for.

"She is… no longer functioning."

**A New Talent**

What would happen if the Doctor found out?

Surely she would never hear the end of it.

Her relationship with the commander had not lasted very long at all, and yet she could not deny the fact that it had changed her. He had taken a liking to her cooking skills which had led to experimentation with his favorite foods. She had wanted to better understand his culture, so she had grown an appreciation for the customs she will did not completely understand. Her usage of the word irrelevant had dropped a full twelve percent over the course of their relationship. Her occasional nightmares of the collective had almost stopped entirely (though new nightmares had replaced them- she supposed it was further evidence of her humanity asserting itself. What else could account for such illogical nighttime discomforts as seeing ones teeth fall out?)

She had also picked up an entirely new hobby.

In hindsight, it all made perfect logical sense: The collective had gifted her with an enhanced vocal processor. The Doctor has taught her to utilize her vocal processor to create music; he had taught her to sing. When her relationship with the commander had started, she had taken that interest in music with her. In wanting to grow closer to the commander and understand him better, she had researched Native American musical traditions. She replicated a wooden pipe.

Chakotay gave her a hand-carved pipe that his grandfather made.

She tried to give it back when their relationship ended.

_"Keep it. I know how much you like to play, and I think my grandfather enjoys hearing you. Besides, the symbolism's not lost on me. _

She hadn't protested as much as she wanted to. How could she? The pipe she had replicated was fitted with a wooden bear- the first option she had found in her research.

The pipe Chakotay had given her was fitted with a raven.

She didn't play that one any more, it felt too strange now that she had started a new relationship. But she still played the replicated beat pipe often. She kept both of them in a drawer next to each other. She was staring into that drawer now.

She didn't know why, but occasionally she would take out the raven pipe and simply look at it. She did so now.

"Seven?"

She stiffened. "Doctor. I did not hear you come in."

His eyes danced with curiosity. "I didn't know you played anything other than the piano."

"I taught myself." Seven paused. "About two years ago."

His expression softened. "Ah. So this has something to do with Commander Chakotay."

"Yes." Would he ask for more details? She hoped not. She still didn't understand why, but this matter in particular felt private.

She noticed he was looking at the carved raven. She mentally prepared herself to come up with some way of explaining what she herself didn't understand.

"Would you mind playing something for me some time?"

She blinked. She felt the corners of her mouth twitch into a small smile. "Perhaps."

It was moments like these that reminded her why she loved the Doctor.

**Decision**

She waits in front of the door, uncertain.

The Admiral had told her not to be afraid.

"_I am not _afraid_, Admiral, merely-" she stopped._

_"Apprehensive? Seven, you and I both know that's damn near the same thing." The coffee cup on its saucer with a definitive _clink. _"Just talk to him," she said softly. "The two of you have always been direct with each other."_

Direct.

Indeed.

She walks through the doors and finds him holding up a glass tube.

"The Commander and I are no longer involved. If it is agreeable, I would like to date you."

_Crash._


	2. Series2

**Prompts:**

1\. The story must involve a glove in it.

2\. During the story, a character has someone make a meal for them.

3\. The story must have a barracuda at the end.

**Missed Opportunity**

"So. Are you going to tell me why you wanted to meet out here near the woods? Or are we just going to stand around?"

The Doctor crossed his arms and tried to ignore the mounting discomfort in his ethical subroutines. "It's quite simple, really," he said flatly. He pulled off one of his gauntlets and threw it to the ground in front of Chakotay's feet.

Chakotay looked down at it, then up at the Doctor's blank face. He let out a single incredulous laugh. "Are you sure you want to bring back such an archaic practice? _You_ of all people? Since no one else is around I'm willing to let this go and never speak of it again, if you are."

"I stand by my challenge."

Chakotay looked down and let out a low breath, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "No offense, but I guarantee this isn't going to go well for you. Are you sure?"

The Doctor drew his own sword. "You would do well not to discount me so quickly."

Chakotay met his gaze, his mouth set in a thin line. "If you insist." He drew his sword and started to take a step forward.

"Computer, freeze program!"

Chakotay froze.

The Doctor whirled around to glare at the intruder. _Of course it would be Tom Paris._ "Lieutenant, _what_ are you doing here?"

Tom's eyebrows were knit together. "I could ask you the same thing, Doc." He sighed when the Doctor continued to glare. "You've been acting like something was bothering you- I guess I was concerned. From the look of it, I was right to be."

The Doctor lowered his gaze and tried to ignore the part of him that was glad for the interruption, but that part of him quickly won out and the frustrated anger he had been trying to hold on to dissipated like vapor. He threw the holographic sword to the ground in disgust. Still, he found himself saying, "It's only a holodeck program, I don't see what the problem is."

Tom snorted. "You know _exactly_ what the problem is. If this didn't bother you, you wouldn't look like you just swallowed a bucket of nails." He paused, crossing his arms. "You wanna talk about it?"

The Doctor scanned over the medieval English countryside with lowered eyes before nodding. "Computer, end program."

…

Tom didn't waste time once the door to the Doctor's office in Sickbay was closed. "This has to do with Seven and Chakotay, doesn't it?" he asked quietly.

A flash of irritation went through the Doctor's matrix like a jolt of electricity. He sat down in his office chair while Tom leaned against the door. "Yes, it does," he said sharply. His mouth twitched into a wicked grin. "Clearly my program is governed by quite childish impulses."

"Ha!" Tom smiled. "Doc, believe me, you're not the first one to do something stupid because the woman you love is in a relationship with someone else."

The Doctor scowled. "That's no excuse." He let out a frustrated sigh. "How could I attempt to do something so... _barbaric?_ Even if it _was_ just a holoprogram, I was there acting out of anger, out of..." he waved his hand, "_spite_, jealousy. It goes against the most fundamental aspect of my programming, the precondition to do no harm."

"It's _adaptive_, remember? You can't keep falling back on this idea that you're just a bunch of subroutines mashed together- you're more than that now." Tom paused. "You're always insisting on that _yourself_\- why is it so hard for you to actually believe it?"

The Doctor stood and turned away from Tom, crossing his arms. "Because the very nature of what I am is still a program. I don't have a flesh and blood body like you do- I never will." He paused. "Maybe… Maybe this is better for Seven. For evertone."

"Doc..."

"Please, Lieutenant." The Doctor faced Tom again, keeping his face carefully neutral. "I appreciate your concern. And I thank you for barging in on the holodeck when you did. But I'd like to be alone now."

Tom straightened up with a sigh. "If you say so, Doc." The Doctor nodded and Tom opened the office door to leave. He paused. "Y'know... _I'm_ no expert on what it means to be a hologram, but it sounds to me like there's more going on here than just your feelings for Seven."

The Doctor frowned, but didn't say a word.

Tom sighed again and left.

**Irrelevant**

"I must say, Seven, you've certainly turned the tables on me," the Doctor muttered. He frowned at the knife that apparently refused to slice the carrots the way he wanted it to. "I fail to see the relevance of this little activity of yours."

Seven raised an eyebrow, not bothering to suppress the smile that rose to her lips. "Is it not relevant enough that a situation may arise in which I am incapable of preparing a meal, no replicator is available, and I am still in need of food?"

The Doctor gave her a flat look. "I'm surprised you would give that as an argument, given the low probability of it actually happening." He continued to use the knife without looking and promptly sliced into his holographic thumb. He glanced down. "Well, that's one advantage of being a hologram. I'm not subject to the same culinary mishaps as you organics."

Seven sighed and nearly found herself rolling her eyes- a habit she was picking up from the Doctor. "It would still be more efficient to learn how to use the knife properly."

The Doctor continued to fumble. "Which would be far easier if you would simply help me to write a cooking subroutine. Though I still don't see why I would really need one."

"You have often pointed out to me the benefit of 'taking my time' when it comes to assimilating knowledge and improving certain skills. I thought this would be one such instance in which the same rule applies to you." She held out her hand and spoke again before the Doctor could protest. "Allow me to demonstrate."

The Doctor glanced up at the ceiling and sighed before pushing the cutting board, knife, and half-chopped carrot toward her.

Seven held the knife with a slightly different grip. "It helps to keep the far edge of the blade in contact with the cutting board." She demonstrated, chopping off thin slices of carrot with speed and Borg precision that would eclipse the skills of all but the best chefs on Earth. She placed another carrot on the cutting board and pushed it back toward the Doctor. "Please try again."

The Doctor gave her a skeptical look before picking up the knife once more. "All my surgical knowledge and you would think I could cut some vegetables without a problem."

Seven didn't stop at having the Doctor cut carrots. Next were onions, tomatoes, dicing garlic, basil, putting ingredients together, applying heat correctly, stirring when needed, rushing to lower heat when the pot started bubbling too aggressively, adding the proper spices in the proper quantity (unlike Neelix, who was always far too generous with his spices), then finally cooking and arranging a plate with aesthetic presentation in mind.

One full hour, several sarcastic quips (from both of them), and a very messy kitchen later, Seven asked the Doctor, "Would you like to try your creation?"

The Doctor looked at her in confusion. "I'm a hologram, I don't... Ah!" His face lit up with excitement when Seven held out her metal-laced left hand.

It was a simple ratatouille, and the Doctor was sure it must not be nearly as good as something Seven could have made herself, but he would remember the taste of it for a _very_ long time.

**Ancient Earth Customs**

"Lieutenant Torres."

B'Elanna sighed. "We're not on Voyager anymore, Seven, you don't have to call me that." She leaned her elbow against the arm of the sofa and rested her head against her hand. She briefly wondered at the strangeness of the moment. Never during her days on Voyager had she imagined she would one day sit on a sofa with Seven of Nine, the Doctor between them keeping her own quarter-Klingon child occupied.

"I fail to understand the educational value of this... game show. Did Lieutenant- Did... Tom... explain?"

B'Elanna suppressed a snicker. She had to admit, half of the reason she insisted on Seven calling her and Tom by name was because it so obviously made the former drone uncomfortable. It was a minor way of keeping their old animosity alive- B'Elanna still wasn't used to the friendship that was developing between them. "He didn't. Not exactly, anyway. He did mention that this was a very popular children's show toward the end of the twentieth century. You know he's always been interested in studying that time period, its why he had his Captain Proton program."

"Miral certainly seems to enjoy it," said the Doctor happily as the infant bounced on his knee.

They all four became quiet as a new challenge started for the contestants on screen. A giant stone head explained to the four challengers the rules of the "temple challenge"- an elaborate puzzle involving multiple rooms and items they needed to find and collect which would ultimately allow them to collect the "electrified key of Benjamin Franklin". Soon, a contestant dressed in silver and another dressed in blue rushed into the temple.

"I must say, this is quite involved," the Doctor said.

Tom entered the room with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn. "It sure is, Doc." He plopped himself down on the carpet in front of B'Elanna, offering the bowl of popcorn to her and Seven in turn. "I thought Miral would like it. It didn't air for very long, but I thought it was pretty interesting. And it does have _some_ educational value- that's Ben Franklin's _key!"_

One of the contestants ran into an intimidating looking "temple guard". The silver-clad challenger was led outside and their teammate ran into the temple at top speed, apparently trying to make up for lost time. From the limited understanding B'Elanna had, the challenger in blue seemed to be making quick progress through the temple's many rooms.

"The story surrounding Benjamin Franklin's use of a key and a kite in learning about the use of electricity is apocryphal at best," Seven said. Her gaze, however, was trained rather intently on the TV. If B'Elanna didn't know better, she would swear Seven was enjoying the show.

B'Elanna shifted. "Tom, can you help me with something real quick?"

Tom looked up at her with raised eyebrows and talked around a mouthful of popcorn. "Sure." He stood and they both left the room and went to the kitchen. "What's up?" he asked.

B'Elanna shook her head and leaned against the counter, where she could see the Doctor smiling at a laughing Miral and Seven leaning toward him, her attention focused on the game show. "Just... look at them. Isn't it strange?"

Tom chuckled. "What do you mean?"

"You know _exactly_ what I mean. A holographic doctor, an ex-Borg, and _our daughter_. _Our_ daughter, Tom. Isn't that strange?"

"What, that we're married and have two of the biggest dorks in the galaxy for friends?"

B'Elanna crossed her arms. "They're not the only dorks in this house."

Tom grinned and kissed her forehead. "Can't argue with you there. But yeah. It's strange." He glanced out the kitchen entrance at the three people on their sofa. "I wouldn't change it at all if I could."

"Me neither."

Triumphant music erupted from the TV, and the show's host proclaimed, "And the winners are the Blue Barracudas!"


	3. Series3

**Author's Note:** In the last installment, I was trying to reference a particular show during the last piece. I didn't realize till after the fact that my references were pretty obscure, and the show might not be all that well-known. The Blue Barracudas are one of the teams from the 90's show _Legends of the Hidden Temple_ on Nickelodeon. I have another reference in one of the chapters here- I'll reveal what it is at the end. Thank you very much for the great feedback- I greatly appreciate it! I hope you enjoy!

**Prompts:**

1\. A character goes for a long walk before the sun rises

2\. A character gets very angry at someone who they usually never get mad at

3\. A character delivers flowers

**Lost**

Seven tried to imagine what the Captain- what the Admiral would suggest. It was easy to imagine what Kathryn Janeway would say if there were a number of clear options in front of her. Probably something along the lines of helping her to weigh the pros and cons of each decision, with the caveat that the final decision had to be hers alone.

Such advice was insufficient for this situation.

It felt as if a vast expanse of unknown possibility had opened up in front of her. There was no star chart to guide her, no sensors to give any hint of what was around her, she didn't even know which direction she _might_ want to go, let alone have a clear goal- at least Voyager had always had a clear goal to work toward. The only point of reference she had was her past: childhood, assimilation, life as a drone, being severed from the collective, Voyager, Earth, Chakotay.

Alone.

The word popped into her mind unbidden, and she felt her throat start to constrict in response. _Cannot function alone… Removing the failsafe would make me weak…_ She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to drive the thoughts away before catching herself. She willed her shoulders to relax and took in a deep breath through her nose, concentrating on the scents of pine and sage and mint; the collective hadn't added much to her sense of smell, but there had been sufficient enhancement that she could almost taste the mint. There were no sounds of birds at the moment, but the wind gently rustled the tree branches above her and made a faint howling noise in the valley several meters to her left- a small animal, likely a squirrel, scurried across the foliage behind her. She laid her hand on the tree beside her, noting the thick rough bark beneath her palm.

Then she drew on that part of the collective that had always remained with her.

Order. Harmony. _I am one among many, part of a greater whole. I may no longer have a clear function, but I am not alone._

At least not exactly.

She kept walking, noting that she had already walked twelve point seven five kilometers. The dim light of dawn was barely starting to color the sky behind her, and she felt neither tired nor hungry. Still, she knew it would be wise to pause soon and drink one of the nutritional supplements she had brought with her. The lake should only be another four point two kilometers ahead- perhaps then would be a suitable time.

For now she would continue to walk.

Although she had no desire to let her thoughts wander (because they inevitably wandered to her recent failure and that was proving quite difficult to think about, sometimes leading to such irrationally intense feelings of being alone that they sometimes brought on panic attacks), there was one thought which drifted across her mind and brought her some comfort:

Her relationship with Commander Chakotay had indeed ended, but it had also changed her. And perhaps that was a good thing.

**Betrayal**

If she had known it would upset him this much, she wouldn't have done it. She was genuinely sorry that she had.

The Doctor refused to look at her. "I just don't understand, Seven. You... You _knew_ how much this means to me." He shifted slightly, leaning against Sickbay's central console. His right hand clenched into a fist on top of the grey metal. "Was I just... not _good_ enough?"

"Doctor, that is not-"

He rounded on her, eyes blazing. "Then _why?"_

Irritation instantly replaced remorse. She stiffened and met his eyes with her own glare. "Because I was _curious_, Doctor. Need I point out that you yourself have often encouraged my curiosity. I fail to see why-"

"Because I wanted us to experience it together!" This time his expression was one of almost comical desperation. Seven might have been amused if she didn't know him so well. She had caused him emotional damage. Remorse returned like a rock in her throat. Curiously (unfortunately), it failed to dislodge the irritation. He continued, "We both experienced the cliffhanger _together_, we should have experienced the 'exciting conclusion' _together_!"

**Peace Offering**

Normally, staring out the mess hall window at the stars had a calming effect on her. In this instance, all she could think of was the fact that a particularly bright point of light was actually a cluster of twelve very-far-away stars, a fact that a recent astrometrics scan had revealed to her. The number twelve made her think of her error in choosing to play the twelfth chapter (one which ended as a cliffhanger) of a certain holonovel without the Doctor.

She had left Sickbay before her own confusion and irritation caused her to say something that would only exacerbate the situation. A part of her suspected that that action might have made things worse- she had seen out of the corner of her ocular implant the Doctor's shoulders slump just before the Sickbay doors closed behind her.

Competing thoughts battled for her attention, and in her irritation it was hard not to want to dismiss both of them as irrelevant: Why had such an innocuous action irritated the Doctor so badly? What could she do to alleviate the damage?

The doors to the mess hall opened with a gentle hiss. Seven relaxed slightly at the sight of the captain.

Janeway must have caught some expression on Seven's face that she didn't realize was there because the captain paused, smiled slightly, then glanced away before marching directly to the replicator. "Coffee. Black." She took a long sip, then joined Seven by the window. "You look like there's something on your mind." She raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"I do not understand the complexity of romantic relationships."

The captain laughed, then caught Seven's eye. "Forgive me, Seven. But that's something that everyone has trouble with."

"Elaborate."

Janeway took another long sip of coffee, still smiling. "Well, just think about it. Think about how far you've come as an individual, all the things you've discovered about what that means. The complexity of human emotion… You've been through quite the journey."

Seven raised an eyebrow slightly. "Your point, Captain?"

"What you've accomplished in the past few years is something which every individual must go through. For most of us, the process is just stretched out over a couple decades- but even then it never really stops." Janeway looked at her- the smile was gone but her eyes were still gentle. "Being in a romantic relationship is essentially about entering another person's _world_, letting them enter yours. Now just think about what that means- you already know what a complex journey you've had yourself. I can't say there are many people who have been assimilated then cut off from the collective, but no one's journey is simple."

Seven frowned slightly and returned her gaze to the stars outside. "Indeed."

The captain chuckled softly. "And you've certainly chosen someone with a colorful journey of their own. Don't be fooled, Seven. The Doctor may have given you social lessons, but he wasn't always so… _benign_."

The corner of Seven's mouth twitched into a small smile. She was well aware of the Doctor's lingering tendency to try people's patience.

"Is there something in particular that's sparked this pensive mood?"

Seven's frown returned. Her eyes flickered briefly to the cluster of stars before she looked back at the captain. "I believe I have made an error, but I do not understand it."

Janeway raised an eyebrow before raising her mug to take another sip. "Elaborate."

Seven clasped her hands behind her back. "The Doctor and I had been working through a holonovel together- one which he picked that he believed we would both enjoy."

"Let me guess. The two of you discovered you have differing tastes in fiction."

"On the contrary, the Doctor's selection was rather engaging, and the two leading characters were remarkably suitable for the both of us. By all accounts things were going well."

"I sense a 'however' coming."

"However, the last chapter of the program ended as a cliffhanger." Seven snapped her mouth shut. Curious. Having to explain the situation to the captain somehow made what she had done feel worse than it had when she explained it to the Doctor.

Janeway paused, then looked out the window. "I think I know where this is headed."

"I fail to understand why the Doctor would be so upset that I would run the next chapter on my own." It was a feeble attempt at a defense, and her voice was a great deal weaker than it had been in Sickbay.

Janeway passed her coffee cup from her right hand to her left and patted Seven's shoulder. "Something tells me that's not quite true."

Seven kept her eyes locked on the star cluster. She felt heat rising to her cheeks. "Perhaps not," she said softly.

A hint of motherly affection entered Janeway's voice. "To be fair, these things aren't so important to everyone. I'm not entirely surprised that it _is_ important to the Doctor, especially if he was careful to choose a program he thought both of you would enjoy. But don't be too hard on yourself, Seven. The two of you may have an established friendship, but you've only been romantically involved for a short while. If all goes well, the two of you will still be learning new things about each other even years from now."

"If all goes well."

Janeway chuckled again. "Don't sound so glum, Seven. This kind of situation can be restored."

The Doctor had been obviously hurt. For a brief moment, he had even sounded angry. She couldn't get the image of his shoulders slumping out of her mind. "How?"

"You once did a thorough study on the topic of romance. You tell me." Janeway touched her arm briefly before making her way across the mess hall, coffee cup still in hand. She paused at the door, then half turned toward Seven. "If you don't mind me asking, which program was it?"

"It is called Nikki Heat. It is about a detective who consults with the novelist Nathan Castle to solve murder investigations. It is based off a twentieth century television show."

Janeway lowered her gaze, smiling into her coffee cup. "Well. I must say that does sound fitting for the two of you."

Seven tilted her head in acknowledgment.

…

Thinking about the particular error which had nearly caused Lieutenant Torres to start a fight with her initially made Seven want to cringe. But she trusted the captain. Perhaps something of value could be gleaned from that previous embarrassment.

After a half an hour of looking over the data, Seven had her answer.

She marched to the replicator, punched in a command, took the result in hand and made her way quickly through the ship's corridors with more speed than mere efficiency required.

The thoughts which had previously crowded her mind were replaced with new ones: At this hour it was unlikely she would run into anyone in the halls- she certainly hoped she didn't; given what she carried she wasn't eager to be the subject of a new rumor in the morning. It was also likely the Doctor was still active and catching up on work, though it wasn't certain; she hoped that he was. Although her study indicated a specific result in the case of Torres and Paris, there was no guarantee that result would be replicated in this instance.

Thankfully, she didn't run into any crewman. But that didn't alleviate the anxiety that had steadily been building to a palpable intensity. She lingered a short distance from the Sickbay doors, hesitating and not wanting to trigger their automatic response.

She lifted her chin slightly, _Nerves are irrelevant,_ and marched through the door.

She was nearly tackled.

"Seven! I'm sorry I got so upset. I-I didn't expect you to come back until after your shift tomorrow. Heh. Normally I would be upset with you for not regenerating at this hour, but I'm just happy to see you. It was foolish of me- it's just a holonovel after all, and you're right, I do encourage your curios- Hm? What's this?" The Doctor stepped back from his tight embrace and eyed the roses in her hand curiously. "Twelve flowering plant stems, species _rosa rubifolia_?" He raised an eyebrow, obviously trying to suppress a small smirk.

Seven felt her face heat up. "I realize it is not conventional for the female to deliver flowers."

A wide grin spread across the Doctor's face. "But you thought they would 'affect a cessation of hostilities'?" The Doctor chuckled. Then something passed across his face and he looked down. His voice became subdued. "Well. I started to regret my outburst as soon as you left earlier, but I didn't think you saw it as hostile. If that's the case…"

"I did not see it as hostile, Doctor," Seven said quickly. "I realized I had caused you emotional damage and I thought this would help to rectify the situation."

The Doctor looked up at her again and another, more gentle smile spread across his face. "Seven… that's very thoughtful."

"I also will not run any holodeck programs we start together without you in the future. And I am happy to run episode twelve again with you. I will not spoil the 'exciting conclusion'."

The Doctor took the roses with one hand and took her metal-laced hand with his other. He sniffed at the roses. It was a curious habit he had- Seven had observed that he often liked to sniff at things that commonly produced a pleasant odor. She wondered if he was trying to imagine what the sensory experience of it was like, based on his brief time living as an organic, his program hiding in her Borg implants.

He chuckled softly. "Well. A former Borg and a hologram? We've never been very conventional anyway, have we?"

**End note:** The reference in the last segment is to the show Castle, an American murder mystery show that ran through the 2010's.


End file.
